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About this poet

Cynthia Cruz is the author of Wunderkammer (Four Way Books, 2014). She teaches at Sarah Lawrence College and lives in Brooklyn, New York. 

Final Performance

Cynthia Cruz

I crawl along the wet floor
Of my mother's childhood,

A serpent, or a long-buried secret,
In my mother's bisque
Chiffon gown with small stars

Stitched in silver, a crown
Of tinsel pinned into the dark
Blonde knots and dreads of my hair.

I follow a sequin thread of dead
Things, stop when the moon clocks out,
Polish my long nails in the sun.

Copyright © 2010 by Cynthia Cruz. Used by permission of the author.

Copyright © 2010 by Cynthia Cruz. Used by permission of the author.

Cynthia Cruz

Cynthia Cruz

Cynthia Cruz is the author of Wunderkammer (Four Way Books, 2014). She teaches at Sarah Lawrence College and lives in Brooklyn, New York. 

by this poet

poem

In the rooms of a rundown palace
You said, Ruined. You said, Princess.

You said nothing to me
For three long weeks.

The color of that room
Is eel-black.

When I was a girl and still
German, I stood alone

At the end of the sea.
You may have loved me

poem

Mother’s crimson leather bags
Crammed with saint cards
And tiny glass bottles of liquor.

The bright stitch
Of God’s final coming.

Dirt and dregs, silt and stars.

The sweet song
Of poverty

Rinsing through me
Like the memory
Of a dream.